


A Little Tied Up

by Dangerousnotbroken



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Dom!Cas, Dom/sub relationship, Edging, Established Relationship, M/M, Office Romance, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Spanking, Sub!Dean, Top!Cas, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5983456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangerousnotbroken/pseuds/Dangerousnotbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester may be good at his job, but he's terrible at taking care of himself. At least he has Castiel to help him out with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Tied Up

**Author's Note:**

> So last week I had to call a customer at work and was told I couldnt speak to him because he was "a little tied up right now." My brain went all sorts of places, namely office bondage and the idea of a secretary that is also a Dom. So naturally I had to scream at GraduateGraduate. She decided this needed to be written. So we both wrote it. [ Here's](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5983993) a link to her take on the prompt. We're both going to hell but at least we'll have good company.

The office is blessedly quiet on days like this. Castiel likes it. There are always so many little projects he’s pondering that never seem to be a priority and are too hard to get to when his boss is around. Not that he’s demanding or difficult. Hardly. But the focus always seems to shift and he rarely has the time or the energy to follow through with the plans, and when his boss takes the opportunity of a Friday when the partners are in meetings or otherwise occupied and decides to work from his home office, Castiel finally gets a chance to get around to them. It’s almost peaceful, though not quite because it is still technically work. Still, it makes for a thoroughly productive morning. By the time he breaks for coffee he’s managed to reconcile the expense reports, completely reorganize his desk, catch up on countless emails, and make a significant dent in the pile of unfiled reports on Dean’s desk.

Castiel likes working for Dean. He’s very, very good at his job, though if Castiel’s opinion were solicited he’d say quite firmly that he thinks Dean works far too hard for his own good. He keeps long hours, sometimes forgets to break for lunch unless Castiel sets food down directly on top of the paperwork he’s reviewing, and the reason he put in a home office in the first place is so he can work on Saturdays when he deems it necessary. It’s rarely necessary. He still does it frequently.

There was a time when Dean maintained that he didn’t need a personal assistant, or even an executive one. He could manage well enough on his own, did manage well enough on his own, and he would continue to do so. The firm hired Castiel anyway. Despite the initial chill, they’ve managed to develop a spectacular relationship, and even Dean has been forced to admit that he functions better with the support. Castiel is glad for this. He likes his job, likes Dean, and more than anything, he likes the balance they’ve developed. It would have been truly unfortunate if Dean had decided he didn’t need Castiel’s assistance.

It’s nearly noon when Castiel’s cell phone rings. He knows who it will be without looking. Dean never calls his desk phone on days like this, knows Castiel is rarely sitting down for long when he has the run of the place to get things done. He fishes the phone out of the pocket of his slacks with one hand, still thumbing through a stack of papers with the other.

“Hello, Dean,” his jovial rumble greets his boss. “How are you?”

“I don’t have the Eriksen file,” Dean says without preamble. “There’s a conference call at two. Can you scan it over to me?”

Castiel sighs. “You want me to scan you ninety-seven pages?”

“I need it for the call. I don’t remember all the figures. I gotta be prepared for this. We’ve been working on the Eriksen deal for months.”

“It’s going to take until nearly two for me to scan that many documents and you’ll still have to print them. I’ll just bring it to you.” Castiel rises out of his chair, already across the room to shrug into his suit jacket before Dean answers, the Eriksen file tucked under his arm.

“That’s not necessary,” he counters.

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes I,” Dean begins, then recants. “No, not since breakfast.”

“Then I’ll stop and grab you something to eat on the way.” Castiel hangs up before Dean can protest any further, already pushing the button on the elevator. 

Dean appears exasperated when Castiel arrives on his doorstep but his words are all gratitude. He means them for the file, though Castiel knows the way Dean’s eyes flick to the paper bag containing takeout from his favourite burger joint means he doesn’t begrudge the intrusion in the slightest. He invites Castiel into his immaculately clean apartment, the one Cas knows he cleans himself because a hired cleaner would move his stuff, and Castiel steps out of his shoes before following him into the office. Dean reaches for the file. Castiel snatches it out of his reach.

“Lunch first,” he insists, earning an eye-roll, though Dean does clear enough space on his desk for burgers. He’d stopped for takeout from this particular place because he knows its Dean’s favourite but truth be told, Castiel has developed a bit of a fondness for their burgers too. They make him very happy, though he does try to avoid eating there all too often. Can’t be having too much of a good thing.

“You look stressed,” he observes, noting the slouch in Dean’s posture, the hollow cast to his eyes. “Have you been sleeping enough?” Dean doesn’t answer, his mouth full of French fries, but he averts his gaze to avoid eye contact and that’s confirmation enough. “You’re going to run yourself into the ground.”

“It’s this Eriksen deal. It’s taking up all my time. I’ll be glad when the ink’s dry and I can slow down a little."

“You haven’t been putting anything extra on my plate,” Castiel chastises. “You’re supposed to use me for things like this. You know that’s why my job exists, right? You haven’t given me even a little bit of extra work in these past few weeks.”

“You know I don’t like passing off responsibilities,” Dean reminds him. “And I hate asking for help.”

“You’ll accept it when you’re commanded to, though.” Dean goes stock still, hands frozen in mid-air by the dangerous tone of Castiel’s voice. He knows what it means when Cas uses that voice and Cas can see the wheels turning in his head, Dean’s thought processes running wild trying to decide how to reply to the invitation.

“Who’s the boss of who here, Cas?” Dean says with a smirk, playing like all his attention is on his burger. He’s tightly coiled though, his slumped posture rigid as he tenses under Castiel’s scrutiny.

“Who’s the boss of whom?” Castiel corrects. “And you know as well as I do that’s a very subjective question. You are, of course, my employer, but I seem to recall you responding very favourably to being bossed around in the right circumstances. You know what I think?”

“What do you think?” Dean queries, giving up the pretense of disinterest.

“I think you work too hard. I think you need to take better care of yourself. I think all work and no play makes Dean a dull boy, and I think it’s playtime.”

Dean swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He eyes Cas warily, but there’s no threat to be found. Cas won’t do anything Dean doesn’t consent to and they both know Dean wants this, it’s just a matter of whether he admits he wants it. It wouldn’t be the first time Dean denied himself pleasure out of some tightly held sense of duty and responsibility, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but Castiel has made it his personal mission to see that Dean learns the fine art of balance. Professionally, too, but this is much, much more about the personal right now.

Dean nods, a sharp, quick gesture, and it’s all Castiel needs. He’s perfectly capable of deference when it’s called for. This is not one of those times. Today calls for Castiel to be much more direct.

“I assume you’re finished with this?” he asks, gesturing to the remains of their lunch. Dean nods again. “Good. Go to your room, remove your pants and your underwear, and return with two lengths of rope, a plug of your choosing, a cock ring, and lube. Do not dally, and do not touch yourself. Are we clear?” His voice is clipped and direct, though not cruel, and Dean responds immediately to the shift in his demeanour, nearly springing from his seat to obey. He obeys so well. It’s a pity they ever have to switch out of these roles at all, though Castiel understands fully why this wouldn’t work in the office. Doesn’t mean he can’t have his own little dreams.

While Dean is busy obeying his orders, Castiel tidies the workspace, clearing the garbage from the desk and depositing it in the kitchen, then laying out the various sections of the Eriksen file on the surface so that Dean can access them all as needed. He plugs Dean’s headset into the phone in preparation for the call, adjusts the lighting, and in a last minute display of cleverness, turns the thermostat down a few degrees. It’s going to be very warm in here by the time the conference call is over.

Dean returns shortly, all the items Castiel requested presented in outstretched hands. He makes as if to kneel when Castiel takes them, but Cas stops him. “Another time, perhaps,” he tells Dean. “Later. When we aren’t on a schedule. For now…” he trails off, setting the items down on the desk and moving to stand behind Dean. His palms glide over the skin of Dean’s hips with teasing light touches, just enough to warm the skin in their wake. He wishes there were more time. Dean is at his finest when Castiel can draw out the teasing, take his leisure just hinting at touching, suggestions of contact. He thrums with anticipation when Castiel is allowed to move at his own pace, but alas, something speedier will have to do today. His hand moves to Dean’s cock without warning, already growing hard just from the promise of what’s to come, and he strokes it firmly, bringing Dean to full attention. Just as Dean’s hips start to work in time with his strokes, Castiel stops his ministrations and reaches for the cock ring, snapping it into place and ignoring the needy whine that Dean makes. Next, Castiel picks up the plug Dean selected, turning it over in his hands and making a show of inspecting it. He’s already more than familiar with the toy. It’s all for Dean’s benefit.

“You sure this is the one you want?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. “We only used this one for the first time last week. You don’t want something smaller?” Castiel knows the answer before he asks, but there is no fun in this if he can’t tease. Dean’s body goes rigid, tensing with apprehension. He can’t tell if Castiel is just being a sarcastic little shit or if he’s actually trying to deny Dean what he really wants.

“I can take it,” Dean affirms confidently, his eyes lifting off the floor to meet Castiel’s. A brief moment of eye contact is all Castiel allows before smiling wickedly.

“Well then, we’d better get started if you want to be ready for your conference call. I wanna open you up nice and slow, and we’re running out of time.” A shudder runs through Dean’s body at Castiel’s words, exactly as he expected. “Hands and knees,” he commands, pleased with the speed with which Dean responds. Castiel joins him on the floor, warming a little lube between his fingers before pressing the tip of one to the pucker of Dean’s hole. Dean gasps, head dropping down to rest against his chest as he struggles to relax against the intrusion. Some other time Castiel should make Dean do this himself, he thinks. Command him to lie back on the bed and open himself up, fingers in his ass until he’s stretched out and ready. It would be so delicious to watch the pink flush of mixed shame and arousal colour Dean’s face, stare into his eyes with a darkening stare as he reaches between his legs and thrusts digits into his greedy hole. Castiel could sit back and drink in the luscious sight, stroke himself idly and fix Dean with that unblinking stare he finds both enticing and unsettling. It would set quite the scene. It’s too bad they don’t have time for that right now. He tells Dean as much.

“Next time, I want to watch you do this.” Dean whimpers in reply. Or perhaps it’s because Castiel’s just taken the opportunity to push a second finger in. “You look so fucking wrecked when I’m touching you. I think I’d enjoy sitting back and watching the show.”

“You can’t just say things like that, Cas,” Dean admonishes. His sternness is broken by the way Cas’ name turns into a wail on his lips. Castiel might have found his prostate just now, and he might have done it on purpose.

“I can,” Castiel corrects him. “I’ll say whatever I like. And I think that yes, next time, you’ll do this part. I want to watch you touch yourself. You make the prettiest noises with my fingers in your ass, and you turn such a delicious shade of pink. I think you’d like being put on display for me like that, wouldn’t you?”

Dean is conspicuously quiet.

“That’s what I thought. Next time,” he promises, stroking gently down Dean’s hip with his free hand. When he speaks again, his voice is far sterner. “Though, you know, you promised me you’d let me know when you were stressed out, and you didn’t. I’m going to have to punish you.” Cas’ crooked fingers make contact with Dean’s prostate again, drawing out a choked noise that’s just too lovely to let go. He keeps massaging that spot, revelling in the way Dean quivers and writhes beneath him. “You’ll cry for me before I’m through, I promise you this.”

“Fucking hell,” Dean gasps. “You’re a cruel bastard, you know that?”

“You say that like it’s not your favourite thing about me,” Cas replies wryly, withdrawing his fingers and leaving Dean empty and wanting. It’s only a brief moment before he slides the plug in with just a little resistance, settling the flared base between Dean’s freckled cheeks and giving him a none-too-gentle smack on the ass.

“Now,” Cas says, standing up and wiping his hands on a towel. “Here are my rules. You do not come until you close the Eriksen deal. Tap my hand if you’re close, squeeze if you’re ready to go again. The only acceptable reason to mute the conference call is to use your safeword. Do I make myself clear?”

Dean nods, standing on shaky legs, his eyes glassy and his lips parted. Castiel can’t help himself. He steps in close, kissing Dean slow and sweet, tongue delving into his mouth as he palms Dean’s cock.

“Clear,” Dean affirms breathlessly.

“And what is your safeword?” Castiel asks, though he knows the answer. It’s a formality he’s unwilling to overlook regardless of the limits on their time.

“Kansas,” Dean murmurs, meeting Castiel’s eyes confidently.

“Excellent.” Castiel grabs him by the hips, turning him towards the ladder-backed chair at his computer desk and giving him a gentle shove. “Get comfortable. You’re going to be here a while.”

*****  


“If you turn to page seventy-five in your report,” Dean is saying, but Castiel isn’t really listening. He’s entirely focused on what’s right in front of him, which is to say, the up close and personal view he has of Dean’s cock, so hard it must ache, straining above the cock ring and pearled with precome. Castiel darts his tongue out to lick it up, a teasingly light touch that has Dean tensing in his seat. He’d be writhing if he could, probably. Castiel has denied him the chance.

He needs his hands, of course. One can’t sit through a three hour conference call discussing a deal months in the making with clients half way around the world and not have the use of their hands. It wouldn’t be possible. So Castiel has allowed Dean the use of his hands. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, the top three buttons undone to expose a glimpse of his toned chest. Anyone seeing him from the other side of the desk, behind the computer monitor he’s facing, would hardly know anything is amiss. Well, no. That’s not true. They’d be able to tell from the look on his face that something is not quite right. Dean is fortunate this isn’t a video call.

Castiel runs his hands over Dean’s thighs and revels in the way they twitch and flex under his palms. He keeps his mouth close enough that Dean can feel every breath, and checks the ropes that bind Dean’s calves to the legs of the chair. He waits just long enough to confirm that Dean is not speaking and hasn’t just asked a question, then opens his mouth and tongues wetly at Dean’s balls. Any other time he’d be groaning aloud at the sensation. Castiel smiles with pride at how well Dean is handling this challenge. He really is such a good boy. He’ll deserve a reward when this is over. Castiel has no idea what that should be yet, but he’ll come up with something. It’ll have to wait until after his punishment, of course. Castiel has no doubt that Dean will enjoy the punishment almost as much as the reward.

He takes Dean’s cock in his mouth and sucks gently at the head, swirling his tongue as he goes. There’s a sharp inhale of breath as Dean struggles to maintain his composure. He plays it off with a cough, though it might have been more subtle to let it go. Castiel doesn’t cease his teasing, not even when he hears Dean’s voice pick up.

“No, sir, no I’m fine. Just a tickle in my throat. Please continue.” Castiel doesn’t need to see Dean’s face to see the flush on his cheeks, and he doesn’t need to see his eyes to know he’s glaring at Castiel through the desk. Which is why Castiel takes this opportunity to slide his hand between Dean’s thighs and nudge at the base of the plug, pushing the tip against Dean’s prostate cruelly. Between his mouth and the plug, Dean has to be getting close, but he waits until Dean drops his hand off the desk to tap the back of Castiel’s hand. Only then does he ease off, breaking off all points of contact except the hand on Dean’s knee, and lets him come back from the brink of orgasm. From his somewhat uncomfortable position kneeling beneath the desk, Castiel can’t see much more than the shift in the fabric of Dean’s shirt that indicates the steady rise and fall of his chest, drawing in slow and measured breaths as he tries to settle himself. And he’s doing so well. So very well. He’s come back from the edge a handful of times already, and even with Castiel’s insistence that he not mute the conference call for any reason, he seems to be avoiding scrutiny. That cough probably won’t even arouse suspicion. It does arouse Castiel though. The knowledge that his boss, his Dean, can be this in control when there are others paying attention and yet come so completely undone when it’s only Castiel who will know the truth, that’s a powerful feeling. It’s almost too much to bear sometimes.

Dean responds to some question on the line, and launches into a rather lengthy explanation of something. Castiel would be content to wait until it’s no longer his turn to speak, but about half way through the speech Dean squeezes his hand, signalling that he’s well enough under control to withstand whatever onslaught Castiel wishes to subject him to, so he begins again. Soft open-mouthed kisses along Dean’s inner thighs start him off slow, and a hand loosely gripping Dean’s poor cock, so red it’s nearly purple and so hard it makes Castiel ache just looking at it, reminds Dean of the pleasures yet to come. His breath catches just so, and there’s a shift in his hips as he tries to remain stoic, but it’s only a matter of time before he can’t take it any longer. Castiel has faith that he’ll last ‘til the end of the call. Dean always does what Castiel tells him to.

*****  


Dean’s negotiating skills are second to none. Castiel knew this before he came to work for the man, but seeing him in action has only heightened his appreciation. He is quick on his feet, glib and confident enough to put his clients at ease, knowledgeable enough to assuage their concerns, and clever enough to wiggle his way out of plenty of tight situations. There could be a directorship in his future if he plays his cards right, though he might need Castiel’s assistance with the politicking necessary to rise through the ranks. The only predicament he can’t negotiate his way out of is the one he’s in right now.

The call has gone longer than planned. Much longer. The last traces of daylight are fading from the sliver of sky outside the window, and Dean is nearly quaking with desperation. Castiel almost feels sorry for him. Almost. But he’s been in top form as far as the call goes, despite all of Castiel’s cruel and merciless teasing, and he’s been to the edge and back so many times that when Castiel does finally let him come it’s going to be a mind-blowing orgasm. So really, Dean should be thanking him.

“…Then, if it’s all in order, I’ll have the updated papers couriered to you in the morning for signature,” he hears Dean say, and fuck, Castiel feels such a thrill at hearing those words. The call is nearly done now and Dean has managed not to break. He’s been good, so good, and Castiel cannot wait to hear him come unhinged once there’s no one else listening.

“Thank you,” Dean concludes. “You too. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. I look forward to the future this deal will bring for both of our organizations. Goodbye, Mr. Eriksen.” Dean ends the call, dropping the headset to the desk with an exaggerated sigh, relaxing as much as his bound legs will allow him. “I thought that was never going to end. You’re brutal, you know that?”

Castiel climbs out from under the desk, trailing his hands up Dean’s arms and going to work on the buttons of his shirt. A sheen of sweat makes it cling to his body but it still falls to the floor soon enough, finally leaving Dean naked before Castiel’s eyes. He’s still fully clothed, of course, with the exception of his tie, discarded on the floor after about the second hour of the conference call.

“I am,” Castiel confirms. “And I’m going to be so, so much worse before this night is over, don’t you worry.” Anything Castiel might have wanted to say about his plans on that subject is forestalled by the phone ringing. Dean rolls his eyes, but Castiel just turns and lifts the receiver, answering in his tidiest professional voice.

“Dean Winchester’s office,” he croons, pausing to let the voice on the other end of the line speak. “I’m sorry, he can’t come to the phone. He’s a little tied up at the moment. I’ll be sure to have him return your call as soon as he’s free. Thank you, you too,” he concludes, hanging up the phone with deft fingers, then turning his attention back to Dean. His hands fly with unchecked speed, ripping at the ropes that keep him seated in the chair until they’re nothing but a pile of rope on the floor. He massages the muscles in Dean’s calves gently, making sure he’s done no damage keeping him bound for so long, then steps away.

“Up.” He speaks the command firmly, sharply, carrying with it all the urgency of the moment, and Dean complies with equal speed, taking only a moment to check that his legs will cooperate. Castiel gathers up the files off the desk, sparing no thoughts for the order they’re in and, once they’re out of the way, he comes to stand behind Dean, pushing him forward until he’s bent over the surface, face pressed to the sleek wood. Castiel takes the base of the plug in hand, tugging and pushing and twisting the thing until Dean lets out a delicious moan. He’s been waiting all day to hear these noises.

“Fuck,” Dean groans. “You gotta… You gotta let me come man. Please.” Dean’s pleading is music to his ears.

“I don’t gotta do anything,” Castiel admonishes. “In fact, since I owe you a punishment, I could very easily not let you come. I could take this plug out, fuck you until I’ve had my pleasure, and go home, and you’re such a good boy I bet you wouldn’t even finish yourself off when I left if I told you not to.” Dean whines desperately, thrusting his hips back in search of friction. “Oh calm yourself. I didn’t say I would. I just said I could. You’ll get to come, don’t you worry. But you’ll come because I let you. Because I want you to, not because I gotta let you.”

“Yes!” Dean shouts in agreement. “Because you let me! Fuck, just, please. Let me come!”

“Shh,” Cas shushes him, pulling the plug out and dropping it onto the abandoned chair. He fumbles with his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants onehanded while he pets Dean’s hip, making soothing noises as the gorgeous man whimpers and tries to contain his urgency. He is in no way successful. By the time Castiel gets his cock out, mere seconds in the grand scheme of things, Dean is rocking his hips back in a desperate attempt to hurry Castiel along. There’s a solid temptation to drag out the proceedings now that there’s no restrictions on their time. He could tease Dean. He could drive him nearly mad if he wanted to. Castiel is nearly as desperate for it as Dean is though. Hours of edging the poor man have put Castiel near enough to the edge himself, and the idea of sinking his cock into the slick heat of Dean’s ready hole has him choosing instant gratification over prolonged effort. The head of his cock breeches Dean easily, sliding in until there’s nothing between them but heat.

Dean grabs the edge of the desk and pushes himself backwards, the thrust shocking Cas into action. He pushes Dean into the desk with a hand on his back and slams into him. His thrusts are quick and ruthless, driving his cock deep into Dean’s ass. Dean strains to lift his chest off the desk but is held in place by firm hands. He grunts, perhaps trying to force his throat to form words but unable to do more than make guttural noises of pleasure. If he could speak, he’d probably remind Castiel that he’s still wearing a cock ring. Maybe he’d beg to be released from it, plead for permission to come. Before Dean gets the chance to ask, Cas reaches around Dean’s hip and obliges, snapping the ring free and dropping it to the chair beside the discarded plug.

Dean’s relief is palpable. The sounds he makes, God, the sounds! There is nothing Castiel likes more than hearing Dean lose control. It starts as a whimper, gradually becoming more of a moan than anything else. As Castiel’s pace picks up and his thrusts become harder, closer to that tipping point where he himself will lose control, it decays into one long and breathy ‘ahhhhhh’, punctuated into smaller syllables of sound by the rhythm of Castiel fucking him mercilessly. Dean lets go of his death grip on the desk and moves to take his cock in hand but Castiel smacks him away, grabbing his wrist and twisting it behind Dean’s body to hold him motionless.

“No,” Castiel barks. The measure of control and command that usually resides in his voice at the beginning of a scene is starting to slip away, and it’s impossible to remain stoic any longer. Everything he has is poured into fucking Dean right now, and he wouldn’t ever choose otherwise. “You come on my cock. Just like this. Come on Dean, I’ve been keeping you on edge all afternoon. You don’t need to touch yourself to come.” There’s a bit of a challenge in the words, sure, but it’s as much a command as anything else. Dean will obey.

He grips Dean’s hip tight, still holding his arm behind his back, and focuses on keeping his own orgasm at bay just a little longer. He wants Dean to come first so he can feel how tight he gets when his entire body goes rigid with pleasure. And more than that, he wants Dean to come first so he can be serenaded by the blissful shouts and pleasured groans and incomprehensible babbling that spill from his lips. 

“Come on, Dean,” he urges, his voice a low growl. “Come for me.” He has to be so close by now. There’s no way Dean can hold out much longer. “Don’t you fucking want it?” he teases, slapping Dean’s hip playfully. Dean yelps, startled by the little jolt of pain, so Castiel does it again. And again. And before he knows it, Dean is crying out, tensing as he shoots white streaks all over the desk in front of him.

“Good boy,” Castiel praises without slowing. Dean may be whimpering softly, immobile and blissed out, but Castiel is still chasing his pleasure. He lets go of Dean’s arm and grips both hips, pulling Dean back onto his cock until his orgasm rips through his body, blanking his brain and tearing a groan from his lips. Gasping, panting, he fucks Dean until he feels his cock start to soften. He pulls out and steps back to admire the mess he’s made of this beautiful man, fucked out and sweaty, face down on his desk with Castiel’s come leaking down his thighs.  
“That was awesome,” Dean finally recovers enough to say, and Castiel laughs darkly.

“Was? We’re not done yet. That was just your stress reliever. I still owe you a punishment. And after that, a reward.” He picks up the plug and fits it swiftly to Dean’s hole, delighting in the little cry Dean gives at the surprise. “Go into the bedroom, fetch me that lovely little riding crop you bought for my birthday, and the padded cuffs, I think. I want you kneeling at the foot of the bed by the time I get there. The weekend is just getting started. I’ve got plans for you.”

Even in his exhaustion, Dean is quick to obey, pushing himself up off the desk with barely a wince. Castiel stops him with a hand to his hip as he walks past, pulling the other man around for a filthy kiss that leaves him breathless and reeling.

“And Dean?” Dean’s eyes fly wide at the sound of his name on Castiel’s lips. “Crawl for me, won’t you? You know how I love to watch you crawl.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [Tumblr. ](http://shennanigoats.Tumblr.com) I'm kind of an asshole but I'm an amusing asshole. I think.


End file.
